Dovahkiir: The Last Blood
by Original-Botticella
Summary: F!dragonborn. Sets during the main story-line as per the game. My own small twist to the canon story. Look inside for more details.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Dovahkiir: The Last Blood

**Warnings**: blood, semi-gore, adventure, semi-romantic (well, that's at a further date)

**Note**: this is a work in progress actually, I might not be the most reliable author here seeing that I post infrequently (I do have a life ya know). Let me know via PM or comment on how you like the story progression – or for any reason really. I have an idea on where I want to do, I just have to type it out in clear thoughts, – I am rather methodical. If I choose any 'romantic' parings, I will post when it happens. Hell, I might even decide to have a few one-shots of various characters, just for smut writing practice of course.

**Prologue**

It was grey and misty on the marrow. The old man stonily stared at the wilderness; a great sense of foreboding etched; creeping into his spirit. His wife lay dead, bled to death giving birth to their third child. The healthy babe screamed fiercely, and he felt the earth shake from the force of her cries.

Crows cawed in the trees, wild game stood frozen from the cries as if commanded by some unseen force.

The old man's hands started to shake, bloodied. His very being quivered and he felt as dead as his wife. It wasn't his grief that gave him pause – he had grown accustomed to grief. Something happened the moment the babe breathed life. Everything turned still. Akatosh himself lay still.

_'This is an omen.'_ he thought _'Evil or great, I do not know. My last child, my beautiful daughter, be ready whatever may come.'_ With that sobering thought he collapsed and cried heavily.

The babe looked at him with knowing grey eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Grey eyes surveyed the snowed, rugged landscape. Her leather bound shoes quietly crunched the snow. Her slim shoulders and her silver-white hair were salted with a dusking of snow that had fallen. Skin had been sun-kissed from her long hours in the wilderness. A white't' shaped paint on her face to break it up to help camouflage her tan skin in the snow speckled layout.

Stooped and camouflaged in a snowberry bush. She found the grouping of deer she had been tracking. With a predators eye she found the deer that was perfect prey. Lexcella laid crouched, sweaty and her aim true as she methodically pulled an iron arrow from her quiver.

The young buck was oblivious to her predator gaze. Bright, grey eyes focused on her unwary prey. 

It was these brief intervals between choosing prey and the moment of release of her tuned bow that she could hear her late father's words in her head instructing her_, 'Lex,'_ he would whisper into her ear, _'choose a healthy one, but one that has a weakness. You see that buck?' _She would then nod_. 'Do you see how he slightly limps? He has recently injured himself. Right there on the ankle. He would be slower than his brethren and much easier to fell. Aim for the neck of you can. If not, the back legs; he won't run far.'_ Lex was lucky she had perfect view of the neck. Aim for the throat.

Breath and … release. 

The aim was true; it was not instant, the buck went weakly about fifty yards before collapsing. It's breath in ragged gasps. She pulled her steel dagger out and gave the animal a quick death—a well practiced cut across throat. It's blood spilling and coloring the fresh snow. She smiled; she had meat to last a week or so. She will figure the portions once she arrived back at her tent by dusk. She heaved the young buck on her shoulder and set off for nomadic home. Or so she thought. 

She couldn't help but wonder where the predators were. She had an easy meal on her back. Lexcella got her answer.

She had unknowingly walked into a battle between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion. She could see them clearly through the trees and hear the clanking of metal. She must be seeing the last throws, the Stormcloaks were in retreat. Seeing the blood and the crying of both warriors and the heavy odor of death and mortality would often stir a strange place that would rumble in her breast. Some instinct would tell her to push, freeze, burn, dominate. Her blood bided her to do so. She pushed those instincts aside. She cared not of the Stormcloaks or the Imperials they had both taken from her. 

She sighed and began to walk away. Suddenly hearing a crunch of snow she turned but that was all before her vision turned black from a harsh force to her right cheek. Her mouth tasted like copper.

~Chapter End~


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The ground burned. No grass trees deer or saber-toothed. Her flesh burned cracking with aching steps. Trees burned black. Air thick with decay and sulfur. Ash fell where should be snow. She felt rage at the destruction around her. Bones darted the landscape whether it be man or beast. She heard the cries of the dead world. It begged to healed. Soothe its wounds with ointment, love, and Word. What Word would grow grass put the bark on a tree and flesh on animal and man?

She saw a dark cloud rise from the tallest mountain. The Throat of the World. In that mist circled a black as ebony dragon. Its scaled shone like raw oil, teeth moonstone white, eyes a golden yellow. It landed in front of her with a mighty thud. The settled ash rose up in a heap around it.

"_Dovahkiin_" it mocked in a baritone at her.

She felt an instinct in her breast that began to rise in her throat but no Words came.

The black-pitch dragon cackled "_Kolos hin Thu'um Dovah_?" [1]

The instinct in her throat unleashed with a push and the dragon shattered.

The shattering Word crackled her throat; her skin prickled and cracked becoming chalky-white color. Her arms and fingers elongated and wrapping around a thin veil of skin. Heat burned in her belly – puffs of fire escaped her maw, burning her nose and mouth. Stabs of pain on her head as twin horns sprouted from bone. Her body became an enemy.

"_Bo_." An ethereal voice said, "_Bo uv dir Dovah_." [2]

She didn't want to. She must. She didn't know how. She wailed at the gods, wailed at the voice, wailed at herself.

The ground shook and cracked, bleeding fire and hot rock. She could fly to escape. She fell into the molten rock, the earth's forge. The black rock dragon sprang forth from the forge, it's maw to envelope her.

She could not fly or Speak.

"_Bo dii dovah. Bo_," the voice warned, "_uv kos naako_." [3]

The voice started to fade, "_Dez_..." [4]

It repeated, "_Dez_..."

The dream startled her wake violently. She was in a cold sweat. Her chest ached, head thummed like a hammer, and a copper after taste in her mouth. It took her several seconds to muse herself from the biting reality of the dream. The words that the dragon spoke she did not know but somehow in her soul she understood what the dragon had said. And the ethereal voice that came. She felt the warning. A warning for what?

Out of her stupor the man across from her spoke "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Him speaking brought her back to the reality she was in. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She wanted to speak, but her throat was dry as parchment. She was loaded on the back of a carriage with three men with her. All were bound including herself. The man next to her had a gag across his lips. Somehow – without her knowledge – someone undressed her and put her in rags. Her great sword, bow, and armor were gone. Undoubtedly her captors have split her gear amongst themselves.

She had not paid any mind to the man in front of her and the apparent horse thief's argument, but she did catch the man with the gags name: Ulfric Stormcloak. She was just as surprised as the thief's and shared his worry and fear. They had mistaken her for a rebel. Now here she was about to share their fate.

They pulled into a nearby village. She recognized it immediately as Helgen. She would often bring leftover meat and hides to sell or tan for some septims. The man in front of her talked about a Nord's last thoughts of home.

The only home she ever known was either an abandoned shack or a makeshift tent out of animal skins. She very vaguely remembered having a house and a room of her own when she was small. The walls painted a summer yellow and every door was lilac.

For many years her father taught her the ways of the forest. His sons more interested in being soldiers than knowers-of-the-wood. Her mother died giving birth to her. Father died years ago when she was twelve from summer pox. Her brothers Jenok and Lenar were both dead – fighters on opposite sides of the war. She had only herself and the wilderness after they left when she was thirteen.

No one took pity. No one will mourn her like she had mourned her family. All that was left of them was a stone cairn near Ancient's Assent going towards Falkreath.

She missed it terribly.

She never bothered with settling down in a town like Helgen or Falkreath or Riverwood. She loved the wilderness too much. She found the interactions with her fellow Nords dull along with the other races. She preferred the solitude. There was many times where she did not understand them at all to the point where she thought something was amiss in her. It only aggravated her need of self-imposed separation. She was no Nord.

The carriage stopped. Her death eminent as she fallowed the men out of the carriage.

It was a nonchalant event. General Tullius and The Thalmor, according to the blond in front of her said with distaste.

We were instructed by a brusque woman, the Captain possibly, to give our names to the list boy. The horse thief denied his sentence and ran as soon as he got out. He was quickly dispatched by archers. She gave list boy her name once that show was over.

"Lexcella Snow-Walker." she said plainly.

He took note."You've come at a bad time kinsman. Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list."

"Forget the list, he goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain."

Lexcella hoped a snow troll would appear to bash her skull in.

She fallowed to the group of prisoners, resigned to her fate. She noticed the General that she saw earlier as he addressed Ulfric, "Ulfric Stormcloak," he began with distaste, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric could only grunt through the gag.

Tullius continued, "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."

A distant roar sounded and a confused muffle went through out the crowd of Imperials and prisoners alike. A deep sense of foreboding filled her spirit, and it wasn't the fact that her head was about to roll. It was spider-web like across her skin. And a quick thought came through her despairing mind '_I won't end here.'_ But maybe it was just some form for hope so that her body won't stop beating.

They carried on and ignored the distant sound.

The priestess of Arkay began the rites but was interrupted by an impatient prisoner, wanting to get the process over with. This seemed fine with the Captain. He bend down, neck exposed the captain's foot on his back. The executioners axe swung with precision and the head went into the collection box.

On-lookers shouted "You Imperial bastards!" Or "Justice!"

The blond man that rode with her solemnly said, "As fearless in death as he was in life."

She disagreed, but now was not the time for her to think as she was pointed to as 'next.'

Another distant roar, this time louder. Her spirit felt ice cold again. Prickle-bumps lining her skin.

It didn't stop the Imperials from continuing. She gulped the sour lump in her throat and with shaking legs walked to the block. She felt the force of the Captain's harsh foot on her back as she lay knelt on the block. The copper smell and stench of the previous prisoner filled her nose. She couldn't look at that man's detached head less than a few inches from her own. Instead she looked at the executioner's. Dirt specked his rotund face. The mask a thick well ruffled leather, with miss-spun stitches. He smelt distinctly like animal and hay.

Several things happened at once.

The executioner's axe started to lift. General Tullius shouting "What in Oblivion is that?!" And a dragon landing on the tower in front of her.

She was caught in a frost-bite spider's web. Unable to move and waiting for the poison to sink in.

It was the same dragon that came into her dream not a few moments ago.

_Bo dii dovah._

The dragon Spoke and a force erupted from its maw. The sunny clouds became harsh and spat lightning. Her vision going blurry from the shock. Chaos and confusion darted from person to person in the village.

She got up, instincts telling her to run.

The blond Nord miraculously was in front of her, "Hey, kinsman. Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!"

She was too stunned to argue and fallowed him into an adjacent tower where a few other Stormcloaks and Ulfric took refuge. Fire descending on Helgen and mortar being tossed.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" the blond Nord shouted in disbelief.

"Legends don't burn down villages." He replied plainly.

'_No shit they don't'_ she thought to herself. She looked around and there was just the blond Nord, Ulfric, and two wounded Stormcloaks at the base of the tower.

"We need to go up!"

And up they went until about half-way when the black dragon busted through the side burning a Stormcloak in front of her. She had just missed being burned alive. The way up lay impassible, she ignored her Nord brethren and jumped through the hole to the adjacent house whose roof lay destroyed once the dragon left. Lexcella landed on a table on her feet, the legs of the table gave way. And it was a wonder that she didn't break any bones from the height. She kept running.

She ran into list-boy.

He was commanding one of the village boys behind a crumbled barrier just in time before the black dragon landed and spat fire at them.

He addressed her, "Still alive, Lexcella? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way."

She nodded in her head. And she overheard what list-boy's name was. Hadvar. She was going to remember him.

She fallowed to the left flanking, near Helgen's upper wall. The dragon was about to land on top.

"Stay close to the wall!"

The dragon must not have saw them as they huddled the wall as it landed and spat fire on more soldiers – burning them. They continued their close calls through ruined houses until they came to Helgen Keep. Where she found the blonde Nord, whose name she did not yet know.

Hadvar shouted once he saw him, "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!"

She was going to remember his name as well.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

She had a choice. Both Ralof and Hadvar bided her to go with them. Lexcella took a breath and ran … with Hadvar.

Both she and Hadvar made it inside in time before the dragon spat fire at their door. Lexcella was just glad she could take a moment and catch her breath.

~Chapter End~

Don't worry, I will be translating. I am no expert in the Dragon language, _Dovahzul_, so I am using a trusted source: thuum . org . It's not like I could use a google translator here.

[1] Where is your Voice Dragon? (There is another word for 'voice' but the one I wanted was in direct correlation to a dragon Shout)

[2] Fly. Fly or die Dragon.

[3] Fly my dragon. Fly, or be consumed. ('Consumed' could also mean 'eaten'. However, I was going for a non-physical meaning.)

[4] Fate.

Be aware that Lexcella has no knowledge of the Dragon language, so she does not understand what is being said here.

I realize that I will be using canon dialogue, a far bit actually. But only for story progression. I will divert here and there only because there were times that I wanted to divert and for character purposes. Also, the length of this chapter is the general length I'm going for in future chapters.

If you are interested, here's a pic from my deviant account of what my character looks like: botticella89 . deviantart (.com) gallery/#/art/Lexcella-Snow-Walker-433269793?_sid=4b95851e


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?" Hadvar exasperated, beyond believing what had occurred within the last few minutes.

Lexcella wasn't so sure about that. She didn't share much of the superstitions of the other Nords. But the fact remained that that was a dragon that almost turned her into crispy bacon. The very dragon from her dream – vision or nightmare – whichever it would be. _'Warning' _she thought absently, _'it was a warning.'_

_Bo uv dir._

He motioned for her, "We should keep moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

It's about time. But with the equipment in the room, she would have eventually worked them off herself, but it's not prudent to waste time doing so if someone was willing to help her. Especially a dragon bent on destruction on your heels.

Hadvar told her that there was equipment in the trunks and table, which she could use. Even if she couldn't she wasn't going out unarmed and vulnerable. Even though he did help her escape, technically, she wasn't going to give her life for him. She wasn't out dangerous waters yet, going through the Keep could be more dangerous than the dragon outside. She had to chance it. People she could handle herself.

She mentally scoffed the quality of the armor and iron swords. Apparent in their low quality for base soldiers, but it was better than the jail rags she was forced into while unconscious. Lexcella quickly changed, uncaring that Hadvar was a few feet away looking at her half naked. At least she could consent with someone looking at her half naked. Within a matter of minutes she was armed and armored.

After a few rooms, they ran into Stormcloak soldiers. You would think that in a situation like this, enemies would forget their differences and agree to get out before killing each other.

With a few swings of her sword, their blood ran from them. Easy.

She eyed the battle-axe. That was more her style. It wasn't her great-sword by any means, but it was closer by length and style for close quarters.

If she ever found the dull-wit who took her equipment, she would certainly enjoy eviscerating them.

She continued forward, deeper into the Keep with Hadvar.

She heard excited voices, in what appeared to be a storeroom. More Stormcloaks, she didn't blame them for wanting to take the potions and bits of food. She blamed them for being so stupid as to attack. No one but Hadvar seemed to have sense. Easily dispatching them and grabbing the remaining bits of food and potions.

Going deeper, it was obvious they hit the bowls of the Keep as they come into a torture chamber. The torturers and escapee Stormcloaks locked into a battle, luckily it ended by the time she and Hadvar got involved. At least the torturers had more sense than to fight where it did not concern them. Hadvar expressed his distaste over needing torture chambers. She was likely to agree.

The torturers refused to come along, disbelieving the fact that a dragon was making the noises and ruckus they were hearing. Being far below the Keep, it was easy to understand their reluctance to believe what Hadvar was telling them. Rather than to keep making a futile argument of their escape to the torturers, they both continued their escape.

They ran into more soldiers and an underground cavern. Caverns have exits. Lexcella was excited at this prospect. Though it would be anyone's guess as to where the exit was.

'_Fallow the water, water has to come out somewhere.'_ She noted to herself.

They had to diverge away only to be met by frostbite spiders. More easy pickings, and free poison, that will come in handy.

Catching up with the current, they ran into a bear. She smiled happily; there was an entrance nearby that had to be big enough for a bear to come through.

Hadvar handed her a bow and a quiver with some iron arrows.

She raised her eyebrow. He smiled at her queerly. "Here, think you can make that shot?" he whispered not to disturb the sleeping bear.

It wasn't her bow, and she was unsure of the accuracy of it. But she trusted her instincts. It would be nice to have a bow in her hands. The bow was well polished and gave little protest as she drew it with an arrow; he obviously handled it with care.

Old hunting instincts wheeled in her head.

The bear had its back facing her. Its neck and head were unexposed. Its hindquarters were. Plan formulated.

A true shot came across the bears buttocks. Waking the beast and quickly prompting it to stand and charge, the wound made the animal slower. Quickly plucking another arrow, and waited a second before firing the arrow through its mouth as it roared. The beast slowed breath haggard, spitting blood before finally collapsing on the stone floor.

If she weren't fleeing for her life, she would have stayed to collect the meat, fat and fur from the bear. It was worth many septims. She left it, and continued and she was right in her assumption, there was an exit.

Hadvar sighed with relief, "This looks like the way out! I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it."

Yeah, just for a moment there.

The cold Skyrim air was a welcome sensation in comparison to the dank cavern. Though it was erased by the roar of the black dragon from overhead, they quickly hid behind a large boulder until the dragon passed out of sight.

"Looks like he's gone for good this time. But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back."

Agreed.

She looked around the landscape, and deduced where they were, "Closest town from here is Riverwood." she stated factually.

He seemed startled that she actually said something.

"Er, yes. My uncle's the blacksmith there. I'm sure he'd help you out."

Alvor, she remembered him. However, Lexcella was uncertain that she would want to be speaking to him personally. The last time she spoke to him ended with an intense argument and their fists slamming into each other. Nevertheless, she needed better equipment, and what she had on her could buy some if she sold it right. The Trader and she had a better relationship.

"It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. She wouldn't have made it without your help today." He said graciously. No, he probably wouldn't have. He seemed too green back there to have made it out alive. Too many times he hesitated when it was obvious the Stormcloaks wasn't interested in reasoning.

If Lexcella wanted Alvor's help in getting her supply stocked up, it'd be best if his nephew made it back alive to tell him. It wouldn't absolve their argument over a month ago, but at least a family member would convince him to let it go and to help her – if begrudgingly.

"No, I'll come with you. Do you know the way?"

"Ah," he hesitated. Not from this region of Skyrim.

"Fallow me then."

After fallowing the surest path to Riverwood after a mile, Hadvar pepped up, "Listen, you should go to Solitude and join up with the Imperial Legion. We could really use someone like you."

It took some self-control not to stop and slap him. The memory of her brother's in her mind. Instead, she focused on the path ahead. She had to remind herself that he did not know and she did not care on sharing information with him.

He continued on after her silence, "And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, General Tullius is the only one who can stop them."

She laughed. It was a hysterical laugh. That was the stupidest thing she had heard. Lexcella calmed herself and stated, "A dragon has no master. You forget that dragon's ruled us at one point. It was killing Stormcloak and Legion alike."

He was taken aback by her rebuttal but they continued forward.

Familiar sights of Bleak Falls Barrow and the Guardian Stones. They were getting close to Riverwood. She contemplated the Stones. She hasn't had the need for many years to use one. Though, with the lack of her equipment, it has left her vulnerable. She went to the Warrior Stone and used its influence on herself.

Hadvar was excited at her choice, "Warrior, good!" he chuckled, "I _knew_ you shouldn't have been on that cart the minute I laid eyes on you." Something came across his eyes then, though she couldn't identify what exactly it was. She ignored it, and continued onward, Riverwood was over the hill. Now, if only he'd stop talking.

"Listen," too late for wishful thinking, "as far as I'm concerned you've already earned your pardon. But until we get that confirmed by General Tullius, just stay clear of other Imperial soldier and avoid any complications, all right?"

'_Excuse me? 'We'?'_ she thought. As far as Lexcella was concerned once she got to Riverwood, and bought better equipment and used Hadvar as a means to do so, she was done with this whole fiasco.

_Bo uv dir, _the wind whispered. _Dez._

Prickle-bumps formed on her skin. She ignored it.

The walkway that surrounded Riverwood came into view; she was relieved to have seen it. It was not on the dragon's radar if it still stood unburnt and unmarred. The first building that came into view was none other than the blacksmith's place. He was too preoccupied with this smithing to have noticed her, but...

"Uncle Alvor! Hello!"

His rugged face with deep impressions looked up suddenly at his nephew. Then to herself. He very much didn't know what to do first. Embrace his nephew or to bash her into the ground.

Luckily, for her, he would rather embrace his nephew. Upon seeing his nephew in such a state, bloodied caked in dried blood, soot, ash and varying degrees of burns. He probably thought she was the causation of his well-being.

"Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh... Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on? And why..." he trailed off; very much remembering their last encounter, though she was covered in just as much filth as Hadvar. "Did you bring _her_ here?" he heavily frowned through his thick yellow beard.

The nephew, noticing his uncle's distain for her said quickly, "Lexcella is a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

For a moment, he let his anger subside, wanting to find the underlying cause of what happened. '_A fire-breathing, black dragon that's what happened.'_

He let them inside his home, and she paid attention the 'you' of Alvor's words. His wife, Sigrid, probably will be as happy to see her. She could be just as rowdy as her husband could.

Alvor kept his eye on her, but other than that, he ignored her existence. The home was as she remembered, homey, warm and cramped. A typical Nord home.

"Hadvar! We've been so worried about you! Come, you two much be hungry. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat."

Sigrid noticed her, but despite her husband, at least gave some courtesy. She was awfully hungry and the food hanging and being cooked made her stomach growl loudly. It must have been a day since her last meal. She at least showed concern seeing them both covered with filth.

Lexcella decided to stand, incase bad feelings boiled over between herself and the blacksmith. As Alvor and his nephew sat at the table. She would let Hadvar tell the tale if it pleased them.

"Now, then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

'_Not quite a cave bear. Think bigger, scalier, and breaths fire.'_

He sighed exasperated, both from fatigue and what happened in Helgen, "I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard."

The uncle nodded.

"We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked... by a dragon."

Alvor scuffed in disbelief, "A dragon? That's... ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you boy?" I'd be more logical if it weren't true.

The wife scolded Alvor and begged him to continue.

"Not much more to tell. This dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for Lexcella here. I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

He looked at her wearily, not particularly wanting to help _her_ out, "I'm glad to help however I can. However, I need to know where you fit in Lexcella. What were you doing in Helgen?"

I sighed, fending off the headache from the blacksmith and from hunger, "I was captured. The Legion thought of me a Stormcloak when a battle took place near where I was hunting. As you can see, they took my equipment." She stated matter-of-factly, pointing to the Legion garb, she was wearing. "The dragon attacked before my head had a chance to detach itself. He was the only one not stupid enough to attack me. We made our way through the underground cavern under the Keep and know we are here."

He grunted in affirmation, "I would have like to see your head roll personally, but, thank you for helping my nephew. You did right by me and Sigrid." His wife nodded.

She thought his tongue was going to pop out.

"You can take what you need with reason. But I... need your help. _We_ need your help." She could hear his pride unroll from her position. "The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll… be in your debt."

She was a little speechless. She didn't really want to head to Whiterun. She wanted to be done with this. To go back to her woods and live in peace. A dragon was just another danger to the already numerous dangers in the wild. Lexcella had no care for any of them. Remembering the black dragon, the Words it spoke. She wanted to snap and claw and Speak right back. But she was just a mouse in comparison. Who was she to face it?

_Dovahkiin. Dez._

Again, why was she hearing things? Perhaps the turmoil in Helgen knocked something within her. Nobody else seemed to hear.

"Alright then." She couldn't drop it.

The walk to Whiterun was mainly uneventful, except from the giant attack at a nearby farm. She didn't know why she decided to help with that when there were clearly other warriors there. After a few swipes of her battle-axe on the giant's knee it fell, leaving its head exposed. After a hefty draw, she fallowed through the swing and buried the axe inches into the giant's skull. She yanked back harshly. Dead. Now she had some more bloodstains on her.

A woman with red hair and fur armor came to her. "You handle yourself well. You could make for a decent Shield-Sister."

_Huh?_ "What is a Shield-Sister?" she asked.

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?"

Only vaguely.

The redhead continued, "An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough." Honorary Mercenary work, basically.

"No thank you. Sounds like a waste." Lexcella stated boredly. She didn't want any other reason to stay around.

"Well nobody asked you. If you think you are better than we are, go talk to Kodlak Whitemane. See what a warrior of true mettle is like."

Lexcella continued forward, the guard at the gates gave her a hard time, but soon caved when she brought news about Helgen. Whiterun's step system of order of importance was evident of where the Jarl was. The upmost building at the top of the hill. People busying themselves here and there at the first level. The second, obviously residential. The Jarl's longhouse the very top. The smells were overpowering of both people and animal. The food being prepared, the smith's place of coal and steel, and the stench of the tannery. Smoke and soot billowed softly from the chimneys of the houses. Children running and playing. She ignored the happenings of the districts, and wanting to get this over with, went inside the huge longhouse of the Jarl.

The Jarl's longhouse was brightly lit, heavily decorated, and smelt of stale wine. Servants busying about, eyeing her briefly before going about. She continued to the back of the great hall, past the central fire.

The man in the chair overlooking the hall was obviously the Jarl, a balding man and he was in an argument. The dark elf clad in armor on the Jarl's left eyed her suspiciously, drew her sword and cautiously walked to Lexcella.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" she demanded, "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

Lexcella coolly said, "I have news from Helgen. About the dragon attack."

Her eyes lifted in attention, "You know about Helgen? The Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Approach."

She sheathed her blade and returned to the Jarl's side. Lexcella approached the Jarl, paying attention to him. He looked about as old as Alvor. Very much, like many Nords, fair of hair and long of beard. He was clad in royal armor and a gold circlet incrusted with bright rubies. He sat ruefully upon his wooden chair, heavily decorated in elaborate knots and dragonheads.

He examined her, noting her disheveled state, soot and blood smears on her "borrowed" armor. She very much looked like she came from Hell and back.

"So. You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yes. I had a great view while the Imperials were trying to cut off my head." She didn't mean to sound sarcastic. Frankly, was tired of the whole ordeal. "In the process, the dragon destroyed Helgen. And last I saw was heading this way."

He lifted his pale brow in surprise, "You... certainly are not afraid of stating your criminal past."

She flushed in anger, "I wasn't – !"

Balgruuf ignored her momentarily and looked at the man on his right, "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?" it was defiantly stated in a no-nonsense, you-see-my-point way.

The dark elf piped up, "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It is in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains – "

The man named Proventius cut her off, "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him. We should – "

The Jarl will have none of it, "Enough! I'll _not_ stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters _my_ people!" his brow furrowed in anger, and turned his attention to the dark elf, "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

She promptly saluted and left quickly. Proventius swallowed his pride and excused himself. Jarl turned his full attention to herself.

"Well done. You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it." Well, not quite her own initiative. He reached behind his throne and presented her with a steel breastplate, "Here, take this as a small token of my esteem."

Actual quality armor? Very gladly taken.

"I apologize for thinking you were initially a criminal. It was by your reaction, undoubtedly irked by my assumption. Why was the Legion about to chop your head off lady?"

_Lady?!_ "Wrong place at the wrong time Jarl."

"No doubt. There is…" he began, _Oh, no._ "Another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your... particular talents, perhaps."

She wanted to protest, but her voice was rendered silent.

"Come; let's go to Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons." He quickly stood and curtly walked to the left of the long house. Lexcella felt compelled to fallow while he complained about Farengar being difficult as a mage. Obviously the mental kind.

He looked like any other mage she had seen. Robes face obscured by hood. Maybe court wizards were like that.

The mage bowed quickly at the presence of the Jarl.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project."

The mage inspected her skeptically, "So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" he took a moment to consider, "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons."

She rolled her eyes. '_Why else? There is a dragon on the loose moron.'_

"Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me."

'_What do I look like? A dog?'_ she wanted to counter to him.

He continued despite her visible displeasure, "Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

"Well, if you are such a proficient wizard, seeing as you are a _court_ wizard. Why do you not go yourself? Besides what does this have to do with dragons?"

He visibly flushed, "I have matters that need tending here and I cannot spare myself to go 'adventuring'. And, 'have to do with dragons'? Well," he pouted, "you are not a mere brute mercenary if you are willing to ask, which means you think – perhaps a scholar?"

Lexcella frowned at the sarcasm. She saw the Jarl at the corner of her eye twitched his lips in amusement. He must have asked the same of the wizard.

"You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities." He pompously said. "One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible."

Lexcella had to agree on that point.

"So, I did my own research on where the dragons coming from. I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be house in Bleak Falls Barrow – a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites." That smelt funny to her, but she kept her mouth shut. "Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet – no doubt interred in the main chamber – and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

"Nothing is simple Farengar. There will be traps, draugr, maybe bandits in any of those ruins. How will a map of dragon burial sites help? They are dead."

The Jarl joined in, "Not so, people have reported that two of those burial sites are now empty. One of which close to here."

'_Well damn it all.'_ "What incentive do I have to help? I came here to carry a message, not to go out adventuring for a stone."

The Jarl was flustered, "Why will you not help your fellow Nords? Your family?"

"I have no Nordic friends. Moreover, my family has long since died because of this damned war. I have done as asked."

"Septims perhaps?" the Jarl spat.

"I can make septims doing anything, and not someone's fetching. All I want is to go back to my woods and be left bloody well alone."

The Jarl was clearly red-faced, "As your Jarl, I command you to help."

She icily stated, "I have no master. I have sworn nothing to anyone."

Just then, a soldier, clearly winded busted through the heated argument, "My Jarl! I have news!" he panted heavily.

"Calm yourself," he was temporarily distracted, "what news do you bring?"

"A dragon has been spotted; near the western watchtower."

The mage perked up, "A dragon? How exciting! How big was it? What was it doing?"

Irileth was behind the guard and irked at the mage's excitement, "I'd take this more seriously if I was you."

"Tell me about the dragon son." His attention now completely focused on the guard.

"We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I've ever seen."

"Was it attacking the watchtower?"

"No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."

"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." The guard left in dismissal. "Irileth, you best send guards."

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate."

The Jarl was pleased, "Good. Go join them. Don't fail me."

He then turned his attention back to Lexcella; he was still obviously pissed at her. "If you will not _fetch_, perhaps you will fight then, yeh? I will ask you this then since you are the only one here with any sort of experience with dragons: Go help Irileth and the guards to slay this dragon. From there, do as you wish once the deed is done. I will bother you no more."

She contemplated it. There was shear certainty of death, but the thought of being left alone was enough and it certainly wasn't _fetching_. "I'll hold you to it then." Was all she said before she walked out of the long house with her new steel armor the Jarl gave her.

She picked out hidden spot behind one of the residential houses to change into the steel armor. It was better protection and more refinly made than the piece of crap armor from the Imperial barracks she commandeered.

She found the smithing place and managed to haggle what she had required on her journey over from Riverwood and the Imperial armor. All of what she had went into the greatsword on the wall, expertly made and crafted. She wasn't going to trust iron shit with the likes of a dragon. All the while, the merchant gave her curious stares.

"Came from a battle?"

The question jarred her memory, she had forgotten in her haste to come to Whiterun, that she hadn't washed her face. She had no doubt of the fierceness of her look. Patted soot and dried blood along with her white face paint smeared, white hair disheveled and dirtied, and the utter of resolution to her pale-grey eyes. It most certainly explained the sidelong glances from the other people.

"Going back into one." Was all that was needed to be said.

When she came out, Irileth was wrapping up a pre-battle speech to bolster the soldier's morale. Before all of them ran out the front door, ready to face the dragon and live to tell the tale or die and join the ancestors in Sovngarde.

They fallowed the surest path across yellow-orange field dotted with lavender toward the watchtower. It was easily made out by a billowing tower of smoke. It was made clear that the dragon attacked it after the guard made his run to his Jarl.

"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here."

Lexcella agreed with the elf. It was plain from her experience from Helgen that a dragon was here. Most of the surrounding field had been scorched or continued to. Deep claw marks gouged into the earth.

She, along with the rest of the band of guards, proceeded forward.

"I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere."

'_It's obvious what happened._' But whether the dragon used this as a beacon to lure more victims or merely wanted to kill and run, is another story.

Cautiously, they examined the dead. All had burns, teeth, or claw marks on them. When they were going into the tower, a guard, covered with soot came out.

"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Horki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it."

Right on time, the dragon appeared. It's maw making an echoing roar.

Only, it wasn't the black ebony dragon that she saw at Helgen. It was smaller and had a brownish color to it. Perhaps the dragons _where_ coming back to life.

She ignored the disturbing thought and readied her arrow. _'Shoot the wings! It won't fly!'_

She fired at the right wing. The beast growled angrily, but did not land. She heard a word as it breathed it's fire, but could not make it out. It was a similar sound to the ebony dragon at Helgen. Quickly, she readied another arrow, but shot the webbing next to her first arrow. It growled and paraded more fire. She ran into the tower for cover. She got it's attention.

Quickly, she sprinted up the steps, intending to get a better view without the sun in her eye. She unleashed more arrows from her perch at the top of the tower into the wings until the dragon had to make a forced landing. The dragon scooped up a guard using its hind claws and attempted to drop it on her while spiting fire. The guard screaming from knowing he was going to die and being burned alive. She covered behind the steps and heard a distinctive crunch and splatter.

The tower shook from the dragon's forced landing. It was just below her perch. Without hesitation, she leaped off the tower, readied her legs for impact, and landed squarely on the dragon's scaled back. She felt her left leg cramp, but she ignored it. Far too high on battle-blood to care.

The dragon bucked like wild deer, the sudden vertigo made her loose her balance. She landed on the dirt with a _thunk_ of her armor. The dragon sensing her vulnerability lifted its left wing and effectively pined her with its clawed wrist-joint. The thumb-claw came down in such a way that it tore a large strike on her left cheek. That wasn't her concern, the wing joint came down at such a force it bent her breast armor, making it difficult to breathe.

The dragon momentarily forgot her, instead breathing fire and snapping at the guards and Irileth. Her vision started to see two and dimly. She could not reach her great sword that was flung from her, a mere footfall from her outstretched hand. Quickly thinking to _get out_ she reached for her quiver behind her back, and feeling the fletching, pulled it out, the arrow point still attached, and with all her strength, sank the arrow tip into the wing joint that had her pined.

The dragon roared in pain and flinched back on instinct. It was enough for her to roll, grab her sword, and in a split second, saw an opening in it open mouth. Without hesitation, she thrust her great sword into the dragon's mouth before it spat fire at her. Blood splattered on her face, bent armor and sword. Yanking the sword out, she thrust a second time, into the dragon's eye socket, burying the blade almost all the way.

The dragon let out a raspy gurgle – a death rattle – defeated. "Dovahkiin. No..." it rasped out with a last gurgled exhale.

The eye socket and mouth oozing with blood as it landed heavily, motionless on the charred grass. Lexcella staggered back, pulling on her armor's straps to release her from the bent breastplate that impaired her breathing.

Her compatriots stared at her gob-smacked, excited, and weary through there sooty helmet slits.

What happened next could only be described as a gust of lighted wind.

The dragon started to scorch from the inside. Its scales folding and burning like paper and its body lit up. Suddenly, a wind made of light encircled her. Lexcella lifted her hands to stop it, but it was no use. It went _into_ her hand, her face, her body. Her vision was not her own, she saw images, felt, breathed, spoke that were not of her own body, mind, or voice, but she _knew_ somehow. The sensations too much. It wasn't her own.

Coupled with her own blood loss and mental pulling from the absorption of the light, she doubled over, screaming blood, and pass out.

~Chapter End~

**Notes:**

Yeah, just a little testing with my action writting skillz yo. Give a fav or comment.


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